Aftermath
by trunks111
Summary: NarutoGaara. Shonen-ai. AU. Possible triggers. Suicidal references. Attempted and failed. The thoughts behind it and after. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

He sat, clutching his teddy bear, alone in the dark apartment. He had taken pills, he thought enough to kill him. He was wrong though, he just got sick, after he climbed back into his bed and laid there, clutching his bear. He felt so empty, so alone, so slighted. All he had wanted, was death. An end to his anger, his sadness. Eventually, he fell asleep, where strange dreams plagued his mind.

He dreamnt of a deep darkness in which a figure resided. The figure's name was Sid. He had no idea who or what "Sid" was, but Sid only watched him from his space in the Darkness. He stared out at him, his lips attempting to form the words of asking, no begging, for death. Sid only offered a stare in response, silent, as his Darkness swallowed everything near. He was left there, gazing at Sid, his belly feeling like an empty pit, his eyes feeling so..., so very heavy. It wasn't a heaviness of death though, it was of being tired beyond tired.  
>He had been fighting for over seven years, almost eight now. Fighting his rage, his sadness, everything about himself he despised. He thought it was supposed to get easier, once he left high school. It did not, however, it only got more difficult. None to rely on but himself as old friendships dissolved further. He loved but that one loved too quickly, unable to see and fully grasp how broken he was.<p>

That one blond he loved, he never stopped to wonder why the other man was so quiet all the time, he never wondered why he was always so closed off, he simply accepted it and went on with his life, loving him still.  
>The blond had gone to work, and he was finally awake. His belly still feeling like a pit, his movements listless. He still clutched his bear, whispering to it. He had just wanted death..., not this remorse. He wawnted to end. So tired of fighting, so tired of everything.<br>He hated himself, his life, his job. He was filled with so much anger, so much hate. All he had wanted was to end it all. He just wanted an end. Believing himself beyond help, he sought to take matters into his own hands, but again, he was denied. Death, not for him, despite everything he wanted.

Even when he was with his love, he felt alone. He tried to explain everything but his love didn't understand, no matter how many different ways he tried. He was so tired of fighting...  
>He sought his end and was met with silence. Still, his heart beat in his chest, he walked, he drew breath, his mind plagued by more nightmares. He felt far beyond saving, he didn't want it, all he wanted was a death, painful or not, it didn't matter, so long as he no longer had to wake into this world.<p>

Since waking, he kept seeing things out of the corner of his eye, but he wasn't schizophrenic... Unless it a mild case could be brought upon by stress? He didn't know, wasn't even sure he cared. What did it matter? His love wouldn't be home for hours yet. He had planned this day for months, but of course, like every other time, it had failed.  
>He wanted to hurt, to feel, he wanted to lash out at something, he wanted to see his body bleed to truly know he still walked this planet on the living plane. He was at a loss though, unsure of what he could do to make himself feel pain. He wanted it, yes, but what could he do that he had not already? He used to punch things, make his knuckles bruise and bleed, it always felt good. Blades always refused to cut him, pills would not kill him.<br>He was a walking corpse. He knew that. He wanted to die but was refused at every turn.

He forced himself to eat something, perhaps that would make his belly feel less like a pit.  
>After the warmth of the food settled in his belly, he sat alone, in the dark with his bear, his phone sitting beside him. He was so lost...<p>

He used to be so strong, so sure, so..., admirable. What had happened?  
>When did he become so fragile? So lost? So afraid? When did he change into this mess?<br>Or did he not change, but fool himself as well, thinking himself strong, able, intelligent, better. He lied so well, he even fooled himself into thinking his charade could last forever.  
>It and he had crumbled to dust. He was just a scared, weak, little boy. That's all he'd ever been. He just hid it, from himself, from his love, from his friends. He was an exceptional liar, he read, he learned, he absorbed, he became what everyone wanted to see. It wasn't hard, tiring, but not hard. Not really, not unless his real self started to show through the cracks. He was..., tired.<br>All he was, was a child, living in a world he had dreamed for himself out of everything he had read. He even had a love. Even if the love couldn't see past his lies, that love was so very true.

Naruto Uzumaki. Seldom was something as pure as that man. He had captured Gaara's heart, as sure as Gaara had somehow, captured his. Gaara was so broken, so scarred, yet Naruto loved him, even if he didn't understand him.  
>Anymore, it physically hurt to be alive, to continue to draw breath. Especially after what he'd tried and failed to do. He was so..., broken...<br>Sitting here, in the aftermath..., all he wanted was what he wanted at the beginning. Death.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, he had to go to work.  
>It was..., terrible. All the walls he had built over the years..., were gone. Crumbled to dust.<br>People affected him worse than usual.

His love, didn't know a thing. He signed himself up for cousenling. He had no real expectations. He felt foolish, sitting in the office, signing papers, writing his birthdate and all those basics. It didn't seem real. He felt fine that day, actually, but he knew that feeling wouldn't last. Case in point, the next day, he felt just as shattered as usual.  
>Nothing held his interest, he tried being more loving to Naruto, but the boy noticed nothing different, didn't comment. He happily snuggled with Gaara, if growing somewhat annoyed at Gaara's want of his attention.<br>Gaara was listless, beyond sad, unmotivated. Everything hurt, and he was just so very tired. All he really wanted to do was sleep, cuddle, and just die. But he was denied his death again, and every day and night was just torture, knowing he would wake to a day no different from the last.  
>They always said "it gets better", but he had seen none of that.<br>It was supposed to get easier after highschool, but then, you realized, every day of your life, is the exact same. A pointless job, or more pointless classes, eating, sleeping, doing nothing important. Just another insignificant "adult". No instruction manual on how to act, what to do, just thrown to the wolves, where you realize how worthlesss you are.  
>Nothing had changed for him. He still felt as he did before he tried. He wanted to try again. He knew it would hurt Naruto, but, he was so tired. He'd been strong for..., at least seven years. Seven years of pretending he was fine, no one knew what was really going on in his head. Not even he knew the full extent of it really.<p>

He was depressed, multiple personality disorder or as it became known in recent years as Dissociative disorder, social anxiety, anxiety.  
>There was so much wrong with him..., he didn't see why he was even alive. he certainly never wanted it, never asked for it, he only wanted the Eternal Darkness that was forever denied him.<br>He was beginning to become convinced that the gods cared naught for him.  
>He was, afterall, a nobody. Just another of a few billion humans. Insignifacant.<p>

Death would be easy. Sleeping for a while, until his next life came along. A rest..., then born right, instead of this broken shell. Whatever their reasons for forcing him to stay here, he didn't understand them. All he wanted, was that death, that ability to be without physical form. He wanted to be dead, but no one would see that, or understand it. If he voiced his opinion, he would be labeled. Locked away, likely. More and more, that idea appealed to him. Everything would be timed, he would be provided for, meds, scheduled meals, therapy sessions probably... or maybe they would just lock him in a padded room.  
>The things he wanted, he knew they weren't for him.<br>None of this, none of what he had, was anything remotely like what he wanted.

Everything hurt, all he wanted to do was curl himself into a ball, lay there, maybe then death would be granted. He supposed he could go attempt to break himself, but then, wouldn't it end as the pills had? He would heal. Be fine. But still, mentally, scarred and broken. Nothing would have really changed. Trying over and over, yielding nothing but the same result, he was so tired of trying... He just wanted out, like he always had. None of the life he had lived ever seemed right. It all seemed terrible.  
>At one point, hell even now, he had the literal everything to live for. His own place, a loving boyfriend, one job, working on re-getting a second. Everything to live for. Still, he lacked a will to do so. He was still expected to though... Despite everything. Less than a handful of people even knew anything of that magnitude about him, even fewer even knew the whole story. He guessed they thought he grew out of it. He guessed they thought he was fine or else, they didn't care, they had too much to worry about of their own. But he was still stuck, living this life he in no way wanted, crying out so loudly for death, it was a wonder his boyfriend didn't notice.<p>

It was as if, nothing was ever good enough. He tried, and no matter what, death was still all he could think about.


End file.
